After the pouring rain
Businessmen at lunch wince at the chill,
Hurrying their pace,
They didn't dress for this.
The earth smiles.
A mother's frustrated child with a grumpy face,
She hastily zips the miniature jacket
Just in time.
The ground is as peace.
He sighs with hands on hips,
The darkening sky spoiling his run,
Homeward he turns.
The rocks are waiting.
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In Many Tongues
He who has suffered much speaks many tongues.
He can be understood, he understands
The language of countless ones who reach
For sympathy with weak imploring hands;
To each in his own tongue he has the words
That bring the quick relief of tears; he speaks
And suddenly old heavy burdens lift,
And there is hope again for him who seeks.
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God Is
I wrote this at the start of my year, and it has proven to be more true than I had realised.
God is the voice which beckons me to come and die
God is the one who went before me and demonstrated it.
God is the source of my being
He who gives me the desire and means to surrender to him
God is the one who looks on my sickness and does nothing.
And causes me great pain.
And brings me to nothing.
To the mouth of the grave.
He said he would make all things new.
God makes promises
God is the one who causes me to look past my sin and sickness to the greater glory at the end.
And makes the path clear.
And carries me down it.
God is the object of my divided desires.
Does God desire me, also?
Would he allow my suffering if he did?
God is the one who can use every situation for good.
Since he calls me to come and die.
That he would make me new.
God is called 'redeemer', for he rescues the debtor and pleads for them.
God is the one who restores my soul.
Pleading for it in the eternal courts.
God is the one who cries out for me and from me when I have not words.
He who cries
"I will die"
I did not expect how tough this year would be, but reading these words again I understand that God did. And God has been with me, just as I wrote here. He has demanded much of me - much more than I was ever prepared to surrender.
But I don’t think I would change any of it.
Peace.
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Breakfast with Jesus
This morning I had breakfast with a dead man,
Well, they said he was dead
But he looked alive when he grilled the fish
On the beach fire
I ate with a man who had been beaten mercilessly
And abused by the state
Rejected by the crowds
He offered me some fish
The man I had walked out on, denied
In his greatest time of need
No one was left
And he died
The same old Jesus stood on the beach
And suddenly I was the dead man
Forsaken and alone
A heavy heart os despair
And I can hardly chew, can't stomach the taste
That this dead-and-then-alive Jesus
Would care for me
When I gave up on him
This morning breakfast with the dead-and-then-alive man
(John 18:25-27, 21:1-23)
Possibly Related Posts:
- A God I don’t fully trust
- God doesn’t do ‘ordinary’
- Ode to Christchurch or my first sermon online
- He who has ears
- After the pouring rain
After Easter
Crying Eggs
Tears and treats
Sorrow and sweets
What a messed up story,
This spring festival
This remembracne of battle fought
And victory won
This Hallmark Holiday,
marketing campaign and sales booster
Lord, Lord,
Awaken our hearts and ignite our spirits
That we would put to death all these
worthless things,
And see your everlasting glory
Displayed on a bloodied cross
You who scorned glitz
And shamed glam
You who embraced sorrow
And saved the human race
Amen
Possibly Related Posts:
- Eyes of Faith #1
- Prayer
- God doesn’t do ‘ordinary’
- The pursuit of God
- Ode to Christchurch or my first sermon online
This Same Jesus
I found this poem in an old book, The kind that feel good to touch, and smell of old.
Today on the road I met Him:
The very same Jesus who trod
The old, old lanes and highways
On His beautiful errands for God
I was troubled and heart-sick and weary
With a load too heavy to bear;
I cried aloud in my weakness
And suddenly He was there,
His gentle hand on my shoulder
Was lifting the burden from me,
And He dried mt tears, and I knew Him,
It was Jesus of Galilee:
No different at all from the Master
On the Jericho road that day;
No different at all from the Saviour
Along the Samaria way,
And I am so glad that I met Him!
I knelt and called out his name,
And I am so grateful I found Him
Unchanged and forever the same
G.N. Crowell, Songs of Hope, 1938
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Here I pitch my tent
Today, at college, we spent the day in quiet reflection. We were asked to reflect on what we wanted to 'build' for God this semester, and then make it out of clay.
I'm not the best clay sculptor, and so I made a simple teepee. It wasn't very good and it fell flat a few times, but you know? I kind of liked it. It reminded me that I'm not really the best person in the world.
Here's a poem I wrote:
Here I pitch my tent
It's not very good
Strength is not it's pride
Not many will find it comfortable
Yet here I pitch my tent
And if 'here' should fail
And my tent comes down
Why be concerned? It's just a tent
Here I pitch my tent
Exposed
Open
For all to see
Here I pitch my tent
Pitch yours with me
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